Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Christmas Story

Christmas Story

Only open diner Christmas Eve,
somewhere between Kansas City and Abilene,
old bum, hobo smell -- hooch, rot gut breath
from toothless gums. Dirt and sweat and grease.
Peep-eyes and patty cakes,
arms that ache to hold something.
Such as these. Such as these. Suffer the little children
to come. Such as these.

nice...love what you created ...a little magical oasis...we all need a place at times, the bums - someones children...peep eyes and patty cakes, ha, love that line...all the little children of the world...

Please be polite!

Poetry Jam

imaginary gardens with real toads

C'est moi

Secret No More

...there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do -- determined to save the only life you could save." — Mary Oliver